


My Fruits are for Taking and Your Fingers are Stained

by MotherOfCups



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: (it's called kinktober after all), F/F, F/M, Kink, M/M, Multi, Smut, We Die Like Men, as a treat, ass worship, no beta aaaand no revisions, sexually explicit content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:14:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherOfCups/pseuds/MotherOfCups
Summary: MOC’s absolutely chaotic kinktober 2020 drabbles
Relationships: Asra/Julian Devorak, Asra/Julian Devorak/Original Female Character(s), OC/OC
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	My Fruits are for Taking and Your Fingers are Stained

**Author's Note:**

> **FKA Twigs, Future - Holy Terrain**
> 
> _CW: No content warnings_

The vanity had long been one of Julian’s favorite pieces in the house. Delicate, lacy Prakran filigree, white and yellow gold wound into irises and lilies, flawless marble and etched glass, polished to a mirrored shine: it was truly a marvel of craftsmanship, a gift from the Prakran royal family to Iris for their wedding all those years ago. Julian couldn’t have counted the number of times he’d watched Iris sit in front of it, powdering her face for the day ahead or applying her vast array of creams and oils before bed, the gold frame of the mirror raying her face as if she herself were the sun, any more than he could have counted the number of times they’d made love, counted the number of times he’d woken up next to her, could have counted the breaths he’d taken in this new life he vowed to her. 

And yet, he’d never been this close to it, kneeling in front of it now, chin on the cushioned stool; there were so many details he’d never noticed before, vines and tiny leaves and birds with fluttering wings, even miniscule eyes with whisper-thin eyelashes, a Prakran custom he’d long forgotten – protection for the newly married, against those with will-ill, who’d wish for the marriage to fail. _Amazing_ , he thought. _All this time, and he was still finding new things to marvel, to marvel and hold close and treasure._

A sharp tug at his wrist brought his wandering mind back to attention – dreamy violet eyes, lined with more than a decade of love and laughter, waited for him, watching with a wry smile as sturdy amber fingers tied the final knot in the silken restraints around his wrists. “Comfortable, Ilya?” Asra purred in his ear, lips just brushing against the skin. Julian couldn’t help the shudder that shook him if he tried, and Asra’s purr revved into a quiet, rumbling laugh, fingertips dragging up Julian’s arms, twisted as they were around the stool, wrists tied to the legs. 

(It would have been so, so easy for Asra to wave his hands and have Julian on his knees, bound with his magic – but he knew it was the ritual of it that Julian craved, the feeling of hands on him, the drag of the silk against his skin, the whispered commands and the murmured praise.)

“An answer, Ilya.” Asra’s baritone voice lowered, inching towards warning, and Julian swallowed, his heart pounding. He was already stirring. 

“Yes, master.” 

“Good boy.” For his obedience, he earned a kiss on the lips, the softest drag of ringed fingers through his hair, before Asra alighted, crossing the bedroom to their shared bed. Julian had to crane his neck to look back at him, indigo sleeping robe slipping from his tawny shoulder as Asra lounged back, grinning wickedly. 

“Patience, honey. She’ll be done soon. Until then… let me look at you like this.” 

Julian pinked, and shifted his weight distractedly – Asra had been kind to his aging knees, pillows under both as he knelt, and still his joints protested at the contortion, the pain sweet but bright. This earned him a dark chuckle as foxlike eyes raked down his naked back, sinuous muscles on full display, and Asra touched his fingers to his own lips, the prettiest hint of what was to come. “Oh, beautiful, Ilya.” 

“Beautiful?” They both startled at Iris’s musical voice, lit up with quiet amusement. There she stood in the doorframe, a vision, hair dripping and skin damp from her nightly bath, sleeping robe diaphanous against her curves, a bemused smile stretching across her cheeks. “What’s all this, then?” 

“Nothing but a little gift for you, my heart.” Asra crooned, leaning back on the bed, his eyes dark as they drifted from her to Julian. 

“A gift?” Iris was looking at Julian now, and he could feel all the color rising to his ears, his cheeks, his neck – his cock was already standing at attention, just looking up at her as she approached him, her fingers drifting fondly across his cheek. “What’s the occasion?” 

“Do I need an occasion to spoil the both of you?” Asra’s voice was liquid now, liquid and hot and teasing; Julian’s own voice hitched into a whimper as Iris’s nails raked up to his scalp, and her own smile turned impish. 

“And you had no ulterior motive for this?” She teased Asra, but she was looking straight into Julian’s eyes, indigo gaze as mesmerizing as a snake charmer’s. 

“Careful.” Asra’s voice lowered again into that cautionary octave, even though Julian could hear the smirk in his voice. “Or I’ll keep him all to myself.” Julian trembled at the thought, and Iris let out a low hum.

“Oh, we can’t have that.” She leaned down and kissed him, soft and slow, her tongue just tracing his lips, tracing his tongue, before she pulled away, and made to sit, facing Asra and Julian, so close that Julian could smell the scent of oranges and irises lingering on her skin, so close that Julian could almost taste the sweetness of her on his tongue as he craned towards her, a devotee ready to receive. 

“No, heart.” Asra’s voice was absolutely wicked as Iris paused, eyes wide, as Julian’s heart hammered in his chest, as his cock thudded, throbbing, against his stomach. “Turn around.”

Julian didn’t miss the way Iris’s breath hitched, the way her indigo eyes flitted to his and then back to Asra’s, her soft lips lifting into the smallest smile. “I see.” Carefully, she shifted, sure to let the satin of her robe slip against Julian’s cheek as she shed it slowly and settled into the stool, facing the mirror. 

And then there she was, seated against him – he nosed into her ass, inhaled, smelling that scent he knew so well, the sensuous bath oils, her familiar perfume, but also that luscious scent of her skin, dark musk that left him dizzy, cock throbbing again. Her skin was so soft, so smooth, so sacred there that it hurt his heart, even as he dragged his tongue down her cleft and between, earning him a surprised huff, almost a giggle, of pleasure. 

She leaned forward a little to give him better access, and looked back over her shoulder, her dark eyes sparkling and lidded. He dove in in earnest now, watching her with wide eyes as his tongue traced and tugged at the rosy ring of muscle, a practiced ritual, but not like this, never like this – the arch of her back above him as she cooed and hummed, her palm smoothing up her neck, through her short, damp hair. He was lost, lost in the scent, in the feeling of her skin against his cheeks, in the sounds she made, now blooming into quiet whimpers and little whines as she relaxed, loosening just enough for him to prod the tip of his tongue into her, to feel the heat of her. 

“Iris.” Asra’s voice – how quickly Julian had forgotten Asra was watching them – was dark and deep with arousal. “Don’t forget your skincare, my heart.” 

Iris laughed, her voice musical, as she turned back to the mirror. “I see what this is.” She shifted ever so slightly, still poised carefully on the stool, as she reached for her creams, but a sweet twinge of pride shot straight to Julian’s groin as her fingers trembled while he pressed more firmly into her. 

He loved every part of her body – her breasts, still supple and firm, the taper of her waist, the thick of her legs, the velvet of her cunt. But he so rarely got do undo her like this, got to taste her like this, her breath wavering with each of his careful, teasing, movements as she slowly applied her creams, her oils, one by one by one, watching Asra watch her in the mirror, no doubt touching himself to the sight of them. He could feel the little clenches of her muscles, the flutter of her cunt, with each little mew, little wild cry, as she slowly, slowly, pampered herself while he pampered her. 

Then – she set the final vial down with a little, ungraceful rattle, she whimpered, almost totally undone - “Asra – can I…?” 

“Y-yes.” Asra’s voice was firm, even as it hitched – there was no doubt in Julian’s mind now, that Asra was touching himself, slowly, edging himself to the precipice only to walk it back, preparing himself for what came next. 

Iris’s voice was high, bright, as she reached down between her legs – Julian could just imagine the way her fingers slipped between slick, swollen lips, frantically circling her clit. She leaned forward, hard, on her elbow, panting, and Julian could only increase his pace to match, his movements becoming clumsy as Iris rocked against him. 

He didn’t know, he didn’t know if it was moments or minutes that they were like that, his head spinning with giddy arousal, his breath coming to him in short, vision-blackening bursts as they moved together. When Iris finally gasped sharply, tensing, throwing her head back, he could feel her muscles clench around his tongue, over and over and over again – the sounds, the sounds alone of his beloved crying out in surprised, heavenly pleasure were nearly enough for him to ascend. 

They were both panting, Julian was kissing any skin his mouth could reach, as Iris slumped, giggling, against the vanity. Hands, a strong hand in his hair, whispered words of praise he could barely comprehend, the other amber hand snaking up Iris’s waist to grab at the softness there. She whimpered, gasped, as Asra kissed the inside of her thigh, urging her legs open as he knelt in front of her, his eyes flashing, wicked, wicked, as they caught Julian’s, that sly smile he loved so, so much, splitting across his skin like orgasm.

It was going to be a long, sweet night.

**Author's Note:**

> knifecat.jpg 
> 
> enjoy, doves


End file.
